


Three Presents Sally Draper Never Received (And Two She Did)

by fairy_tale_echo



Category: Mad Men
Genre: 5 Things, Alternate Universe - Future, Gen, Post Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-23
Updated: 2008-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-25 05:47:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1634759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairy_tale_echo/pseuds/fairy_tale_echo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five snapshots of giving and receiving in the Draper household. (spoilers through S2)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Presents Sally Draper Never Received (And Two She Did)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zara Hemla (zarahemla)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarahemla/gifts).



_P_ _olly_

The only thing Sally remembers about the birthday that still makes her mother knit her eyebrows together in disapproval is that was the year Polly came to live with them. Her father had apparently spent the whole day building her playhouse, which she would spend countless happy hours in, before he disappeared and stuck her party with a half frozen cake rescued from Helen Bishop's freezer. (the horror, the humiliation!) but all Sally remembered was Polly's soft, silky fur.

Her mother never failed to not so subtly allude to this utter humiliation, to the way her father had just thought he could buy their forgiveness, make them all forget that he'd walked out. It came up in her asides about Polly, at every birthday year after, one way or another, in some small, sharp-tongued comment. Not that her mother would ever address this sore memory, this huge slight, directly, or talk to Daddy about it. No, a lady would never do something like that.

Sally became accustomed to these comments, almost anticipating them. Would Mother find a way to mention her _sixth birthday_ yet again? Of course, the answer was always yes.

The strangest part was Sally found she didn't care if Daddy was trying to buy her forgiveness. It had brought her Polly. It had worked.

She would learn, of course, Mother's forgiveness was much more expensive.

_The Riding Boots_

Sally remembers much more about when she received the shiny riding boots. It's strange, she was only two years older, but that memory is so much sharper in her mind. Perhaps it was because that was the year she first realized something was terribly wrong between her parents, something that neither of them could smile away.

Her father disappearing from her birthday party, that cold cake, it meant nothing. But Daddy's long absence, the nights he wasn't under their roof, the way her mother's face had frozen in a grim mask of unhappiness, no present could undo that. Maybe it was that riding boots didn't have Polly's warm heartbeat. Maybe it was that she could still feel the sting of her mother's hands in her hair as she yanked her out of the bathroom.

It was more than that, though, the reason she remembers the bad things about those boots. The real reason is how they sat in her closet, unused and still as shiny as they had been in the box. Her mother never took her riding. Her little brother David came, and Daddy was back home, and big girls didn't bother their parents about every little thing like riding boots.

By the time she was signed up for riding lessons ( _for poise, dear_ ) the boots were too small. She held them out to her mother when she asked if Sally had the right boots. Her face tugged down into a frown. "Those old things?" she said "Throw them out."

_The Pearl Necklace_

On her fifteenth birthday, her mother held the red velvet box out to Sally, a proud smile on her face.

A delicate, perfectly round pearl dangled from a thin gold chain. She tried to smile at her mother, tried to understand why she was so pleased, why she wanted this to mean so much to Sally.

She bit back the urge to tell her mother that it was 19 fucking 69 and the whole damn world was changing while her parents stayed locked up in their house, pretending like the world was unchanged: like Bobby and Reverend King hadn't been murdered, like there weren't boys dying in Vietnam for no reason. She tried to keep her hands steady while she held that little box and her mother's eyes shone.

"Real ladies always wear pearls, Sally. Your father and I wanted to let you know how proud we are of the young lady you are becoming."

This was especially funny because, as usual, her father was no where to be found, he was in the city, he was at work. It was so important, in these changing times, for Sterling, Cooper & Draper to make sure they were competitive at the dawn of this new decade. At least that was what she heard her mother telling one of her friends on the phone last week. She almost sounded like she believed that, like she hadn't heard the exact same thing ten years earlier.

Sally wanted to snap the lid of the box shut and shove it back into her mother's hands and ask her if she thought _real_ ladies snuck into the city on the weekends with Nancy to join anti-war protests and let older boys put their hands under their bras.

Instead, she gave her mother a smile that mixed affection and what she might call pity and bent her head, lowering her neck to let her mother fasten the necklace clasp.

_The Corsage_

Perhaps she said yes to going to Homecoming with Glen Bishop just to see the way her mother's face would become pinched and painful, furrowed at the brow, and even sad. Yes, that was probably a big part of it. She wanted to tell her mother, without having to say a word, that _she_ remembered the time Glen lived in her playhouse, the way he used to look at her mother.

"Saying" things without actually speaking them aloud was a fine art in the Draper house and Sally was becoming a master of it herself. Glen posed for pictures stiffly, keeping his head down as her mother talked too loudly and moved too slowly. Sally laughed to herself as he awkwardly pinned the pink rose corsage too high on her shoulder. Daddy probably thinks Glen's nervous because he likes _me_ so much. She hoped her mother would ruin the photos due to her inability to look directly at them.

Her mother's lips were dry against her cheek. Her father waved heartily, one arm slung around her mother's shoulders, and told them to have a good time.

Sally looked at her mother and said it all.

They didn't even have to park; Glen's mother wasn't home, so they went back to his house after the dance and had too many drinks from her sherry bottle before they found themselves on his bed, in the dark.

Glen kissed her with his eyes squeezed shut and called her "Betty," the name slipping accidently from his lips as he held her.

Sally didn't push him away. She stared down at the perfectly round pearl around her neck and turned her head to the side. After, she didn't even tell Glen goodnight, she just walked home. She never spoke to him again.

The next day, she bleached her hair blonde.

_The 1972 Ford Mustang_

On the morning of her graduation from high school, the car was waiting in the driveway, bright blue and gleaming in the sun. The whole family ran out to see it, her father throwing her the keys.

She heard her mother's angry whisper before she had even let go of her father's neck. "Don," she had hissed over Sally's joyous laughter and Bobby and Davey's clapping, "a Mustang is no car for a young lady on her way to Barnard."

When Sally jangled the keys in her hand and locked eyes with her father, she understood. She _knew_. He smiled at her, maybe bigger than she'd ever seen him smile in her whole life.

The night, Sally and her father sat out on their front porch, staring out into the stretching twilight. Her mother had retreated into the house, refusing to smile or even speak once all the guests had left the reception. Sally leaned her head on his shoulder and felt six years old all over again. As always, she understood everything he wasn't saying. Once the sun had set, he kissed her forehead and went inside, leaving Sally out on the porch alone.

The next morning, before dawn, she pulled out of the driveway, a few bags in the backseat along with her graduation money and the five, brand-new, crisp hundred dollar bills her father had slipped underneath her pillow.

She left the pearl necklace on her dresser with a note.

_I'll call when I get there._

She rolled the windows down and let the cool morning air blow around her neck.

Maybe she'd change her name.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ndnickerson totally made this story come together. She's my best partner in crime ever.
> 
> This was written back in 2008 - so we know it's not how it turned out for Sally. But maybe in some universes it is! ;) Also I know people thought/think this work is too hard on Betty, but I love her and I tried to capture her as a woman who is striving to connect with her daughter but somehow keeps pushing her away, sadly. And I think Sally idolizes Don, but it doesn't make her any closer to KNOWING him.
> 
> Written for zara hemla


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